Weapon 7
by GrizzlyTeddyBear
Summary: The sole survivor of a program to create the ultimate assassin, Shichi is sent on a mission she know will be her death, kill the Sannin Jirayia and Tsunade of Konoha, orders from Orochimaru.
1. Chapter 1

**Authoress pre-ramble**: I'm not dead yet! Things got a little rocky personally and professionally, but I'm all set again. I've got a great new job in a new part of FL which of course means I had to move...again... I'll set a record for that one of these days.

I wanted to give a huge thank you to all of my readers and reviewers, new and old! I apologize greatly for not responding to any reviews or emails in the last few months, but I promise I still read them all and love you all! A obvious plug for CasaHouse's _**The Code**_ which needs to be read and the author given cookie's in the form of reviews! I owe him that much for betaing much of my writings and putting up with my harassment of continuing his fic...

Without further ado...

**Title: Weapon Shichi**

**By: GrizzlyTeddyBear**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and this makes me sad. It also means I make no money from this venture. Naruto belongs to Misashi Kishimoto. I do own Shichi, my OC! **

**Main Pairings: Eventual IbikixOC**

**Rating: M for mentioned violence & adult themes**

**Warning: AU, time-line? What's that? Also is OC-centric. Hold your pants, all will be revealed as the story progresses. **

Summary: The sole survivor of a program to create the ultimate assassin, Shichi is sent on a mission she know will be her death, kill the Sannin Jirayia and Tsunade of Konoha, orders from Orochimaru.

***Chapter 1***

Cigarettes. They were the one habit she allowed herself. The one thing _they_ had allowed her to diverge from her training in. Of course by the time she decided she would keep smoking, she could take any one of _them_ on.

Her handlers. She never knew who her real parents were, not that it mattered to her anyway. Years ago she decided her parents sold her to get themselves out of poverty…something the rest of the area was still struggling to accomplish. Her first memory was of her training.

Training. It was all she could really remember of her so call childhood. She ate, slept, and breathed it for as long as she could remember. But gradually she noticed a difference in how they treated her as she became more advanced. Their confidence in their plans soon became her confidence, and her fear of the training techniques became their fear of her soon unequaled abilities.

Her self reflection ended almost in sync with the end of her long slow drag on the butt, but one last stray thought slipped through. Cigarettes. She figured since they addicted her to the performance enhancing drug, she could at least have an addiction she initiated. She flicked her gaze from watching her own booted toe crush the butt into the ground back up to the handler on rotation.

That was one of their methods. Attachment was weakness. No handler was allowed to deal with her for more than one month's time. No one was allowed to touch her accept with clinical hands to conduct a test with the drug running through her system. Long ago she learned not even to ask them their names, she thought of them as numbers now. This one was 292.

"Master Orochimaru has a new threat against him you are to eliminate," stated 292. "You are to assassinate the Sannin known as Jiraiya and Tsunade. The method is up to you."

"Dismissed," replied Shichi. Accepting the mission was not a choice. She didn't see any logical reason to imply she accepted the order that might mean her death, just that she would obey it. The legend of the Sannin was not something she was ignorant of, but to fail was to die. It was better to die in the service of Orochimaru then to fail and be at his mercy.

Going back to her rooms to pick out her weapons for the mission, she mused on her past assassinations. At the age of twenty seven, she had many, and this next assignment sounded more than a challenge for her. But her first kill was still her finest.

***

Shichi was the only survivor of the program. The seventh test subject. Those that came before and after had all been failures and perished. The hopes of Orochimaru rested entirely on her at the age of 14. To fail is to die. This has been drilled into her endlessly. To fail is to die. Serving Orochimaru was the only way to live. Master Orochimaru wanted the Fourth Kazekage dead. Shichi would deliver this for him. The reasoning of the mission, was never in question.

She was laden down with her weapons, ashiko hidden in her boots for climbing the village walls, neko-te for her hands to take care of the guards on the other side. Her blowgun and poisoned darts would do well for the actual assassination, her tanto and ninja-to for dealing with any other threats. Her handlers also made sure her body was her primary weapon, physical conditioning and the drug they kept giving her made her superior to any opponent with no chakra manipulation needed. Shichi handled the journey through the desert's harsh windstorm at night as if she were going for a stroll in the finest weather.

The full moon's glow was her flickering light in between gusts of wind. Casting an eerie light upon her dark hair, almost causing it to look midnight blue, a person would not expect someone of such confidence and beauty to be a small, 14 year old assassin on her way to execute the Fourth Kazekage.

At the wall, Shichi shed her cloak which had protected her from the whipping sands. Tying a mask across her face, she checked her ashiko were extended and attached her neko-te to her hands to assist in the climb. However, before taking her first handhold, Shichi reached into her bag and produced a small, pre-measured dose of the drug and inserted the needle into her neck.

Closing her eyes and flexing her hands to determine the drug was absorbed and working, she began her climb. Her heart beat became louder to her own ears. The wind sounded harsher, but felt diminished. The top of the wall was soon within reach.

The guards had been caught unaware in the sandstorm. They were quickly dispatched with a few slashes to the face and use of her tanto to the neck. Bodies were propped back into place to buy time until the next shift came and discovered their deaths.

Shichi ran down alleyways and darkened streets to her destination. The Kazekage's residence was difficult to miss. Taking out her blowgun, she executed the guards and entered the grounds. Relying on her ashiko and neko-te to scale the curved outer wall of the building, she slowed her climbing speed to reduce noise as she approached the one window still lit from within. When she reached the window, Shichi saw the Kazekage sitting at his desk within, hunched over paperwork. Setting her tanto to the windowsill, with one hand she pried open a space just big enough to insert her blowgun and took the shot.

The Kazekage fell forward, head hitting the desk with hardly a sound. Prying the opening bigger to allow herself entry into the room. Shichi removed the body from the desk and carefully packed the piece of paper with blood on it into her vest. There was unfortunately no way to keep the sand from the room during the storm. Removing her dart and repacking it with the rest she had removed from the guards, she again injected herself with drug. The Kazekage was much larger, and she would need the added strength to bring the body back to Orochimaru's lab. Slinging the dead weight over her shoulder, she retraced her steps to exit the village and return to the lab. No alarm was ever raised.

Upon returning with the body, she dutifully went to her assigned cell to await the possible withdrawal effects of the drugs for the mandated 24 hours. Smaller doses were given to her at intervals to stave off the worst effects.

***

Shichi carefully arranged her long dark hair on top of her head to conceal tetsu-bishi and a few sebon. Her ashiko boots were never parted from her, neko-te carefully arranged for ease of withdrawal in one of the pouches on her vest. Tanto and ninja-to in their respective spine and horizontal back sheaths for ease of movement. A long and bulky coat, enough to cover any remaining visible weapons but still look natural was the last to be added to her outfit. The last of her weapons, her enhancing drugs, placed in a small tin to go in the vest after each dose was measured and counted. One for travel, one for the assignment, one for the trip home, and two for emergencies.

A trail through the trees was hardest to track, so Shichi picked her path to Konoha along the hardwoods whose bark was less likely to show bootprints. The drug was already racing through her system and seemed to mimic her heightened senses, speed, and strength.

Pausing just before the clearing announcing Konoha's gate, something struck her as odd--heightened senses picking up something beyond normal human perception. Shichi slowed her heartbeat and respiration, closed her eyes and _listened_. No sound. Not even crickets. The soft creaking of the guard's sandals in the gatehouse was all she could pick up. Something was wrong, the village was on alert for the approach of an enemy.

To fail was to die. She circled the outer wall of the village until she could no longer hear the guards at the gatehouse or other noises from the other side of the wall. Coming down from the trees, she visually assessed the distance and height of the wall. Deciding against taking another injection, Shichi ramped her respiration back up and began counting. As she reached 30 she began to sprint towards the wall, at 2 meters she executed a handspring to propel herself onto the wall. Using the gained momentum, and her increased strength, she twisted herself up and over the wall to the other side and landed in a crouch. Adopting a purposeful gate, she walked in the direction of the Hokage's Tower to accomplish the assassination of Tsunade.

Shichi only walked about 20 paces and rounded a corner when she ran into her first confirmation that Konoha indeed, knew she was coming. A number of masked ANBU stood in her path to the tower. The sound of muffled heartbeats moving behind her alerted her to more hidden in the shadows. Her hand darted to the tin containing the drug.

The ANBU moved to strike, sure she was going for hidden weapons, and were surprised when she leaped back and crouched down.

Hands on the extra doses and deciding on the calculated risk of pushing her mind and body to the limit, Shichi slammed all of the extra doses into her leg in concealment from the ANBU and went on the offensive. To fail was to die.

The senbon stored in her hair found their targets within the necks of 4 of the ANBU and gave Shichi enough time to draw both of her blades. Three were brave enough to surround her now that the swords prevented her from throwing more senbon. At a speed that even the ANBU could barely track, she thrust the point of her blades into the necks of two ANBU and twisted, severing the head off of the third. Not wasting any time, Shichi charged another group of ANBU that had the sense to jump back and place themselves outside of reach of her swords.

A rustle of fabric was heard to her left. Schichi spun and brought the broadside of her swords to bear to deflect senbon and then continued the spin to block a few more senbon and some kunai aimed at her from the opposite direction. The result from the outside observer was a spinning blur that seemed to block attacks from all angles by any throwing weapon.

Picking her next target, Shichi ended her spin and seemed to fly towards two more ANBU that died by her tanto and ninja-to. Shichi paused momentarily to slow down her breathing which had become slightly erratic with the overdose of the drug.

The momentary distraction was all the ANBU needed. Seeming to have come to some unspoken agreement, the remaining ANBU came rushing at her at once.

Losing herself to the feel of her own body movements, Shichi appeared to dance as she spun, slashed, and thrust her weapons at her surrounding opponents. A few more fell to her steel. At some point in the whirlwind of motion, the blades broke, the weapon of the assassin always inferior to that of the samurai in steel quality. Forced to throw them aside, Shichi continued her spinning dance with her body as her weapon. Taking cuts and hits from the ANBU she managed to kill more by mere brute force.

Several senbon and kunai were now protruding from her limbs, her vest had protected her chest and back. Blood-loss was affecting her ability to control her muscles. For now, the drug kept the pain at bay. Gradually her movements slowed. Dropping to her knees and still attempting to keep on the offensive, ANBU tightened their formation on Shichi. The last thing she remembered was a weapon raised in a killing blow that changed its angle last minute at the barked command of another.

***

Shichi awoke to darkness and cold. There was a thin line of light coming from the bottom of what she thought was identifiable as a door. Moving slowly, in a small concession to her aching muscles and joints, she made her way to the door to feel for edges and assess what it was made of.

Steel. Three hinge points and three bolts. A small knock confirmed her suspicion it was solid steel. Turning around, and feeling along the walls, no other openings were found.

Sitting approximately 4 paces from the door and with her back turned to help buffer any ill effects of harsh light when the door opened, Shichi took stock in her physical condition. Her hair was unbound, no weapons left there. There was a large swollen area from where she was struck unconscious. Her captures did not see fit to leave her with any clothing, eliminating other hidden weapons. She had several cuts--the deeper ones still oozing blood--along her arms and legs and triple the number of bruises. Her left forearm felt sore, and her drug allowed a small spike of pain through when she attempted to rotate her wrist. With the amount of drugs she gave herself before the battle in combination with the amount of pain made a fracture more than possible. Grasping her left hand with her right, Shichi gave a sharp tug to ensure proper alignment of bones and sat down to wait for interrogation. It was the only reason she was still alive.

****

**Authoress post-ramble**: A definite departure from the shinier world of Paige and Shino. I wanted to dabble in something darker. Questions, comments, criticisms? Leave me a review, they are always appreciated, even when life gets in the way and I'm way behind on my responses!!

-GrizzlyTeddyBear


	2. Chapter 2

**Authoress Pre-ramble:** Some old and some new reviewers! Thank you for all of the praise and encouragement to keep on writing. Posting of this thing will be sporadic at best, but I'm gonna make it through!

**Title: Weapon Shichi**

**By: GrizzlyTeddyBear**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and this makes me sad. It also means I make no money from this venture. Naruto belongs to Misashi Kishimoto. I do own Shichi, my OC! **

**Main Pairings: Eventual IbikixOC**

**Rating: M for mentioned violence & adult themes**

**Warning: AU, timeline? what's that? BDSM themes. Also is OC-centric. Hold your pants, all will be revealed as the story progresses. **

Summary: The nature of interrogation.

***Chapter 2***

Noises in the hall came at irregular intervals of time. No one spoke while passing her cell. At each sound of approaching footsteps, Shichi closed her eyes as an additional shield to harsh lighting entering her dark cell and tensed for action. At times she would flex her fingers on her left hand to assess how much pain the drug was letting through. With the amount she had taken in the overdose, she guessed she had about 3-4 days before she needed a maintenance shot to keep withdrawal symptoms at bay or risk death.

She was cold, hungry, thirsty, and the pain in her fractured forearm had grown to a dull throbbing ache. Several times she needed to get up to relieve herself in the corner of her cell and then return to her post, 4 paces from the door. Increased kidney function was an unfortunate byproduct of her body processing the overdose of drug in her system.

Shichi was aware the isolation and deprivation of food, drink, and a proper place to relieve herself were all attempts to make her more amenable to questioning when given better treatment. Her handlers were sure to expose her to torture to educate her and build up her resistance. Shichi guessed about 24 hours passed when the door was opened.

The light was excruciatingly harsh in its brightness, but she opened her eyes a fracture of a second later, spun and lashed out with her right hand. The potential blow was caught before it could strike the head of her target. The ANBU was passive behind the mask. It countered her move by pinning her arms to her back in a move that dislodged the aligned bones in Shichi's fracture. Roughly she was pushed through the open doorway opposite of her cell door, the door of the new cell, locking behind after a gruff order of "Wash," was given.

The new room was as bright as the other was dark. Light seemed to come from every direction and at first Shichi felt disoriented. Squinting against the light, she took in the orange bucket and rag provided for her, presumably to wash with. Keeping her right arm extended, she walked until she hit solid wall, then traced the perimeter of the room. The construction seemed similar to the dark cell, only a difference in lighting. Grabbing her left wrist, Shichi reset her fracture with slightly increased pain from last time. Next she walked to the bucket, wet the rag in the warm water, and washed no more than what was necessary to prevent infections in her still exposed wounds. Placing the bucket at the center of the wall opposite the door to mark the boundary her vision was still having trouble identifying in the white on white cell, she again took paces from the door and then sat facing it.

It was approximately another 2 hours before three sets of footsteps announced another possible encounter with ANBU. Shichi chose to stand and wait for the inevitable questioning calmly as slowly, the three deadbolts were unlatched. In contrast the door opened swiftly and a dark-hair woman with her hair drawn up in a spiky ponytail wearing a rather revealing outfit under her trench coat barreled into the room carrying a file followed by two ANBU carrying two chairs and a small table. The table and chairs were set in the middle of the room and the ANBU left. The woman took a seat and motioned for Shichi to do likewise in the other chair.

After checking the chair, she obliged and sat on its edge--making sure she was balanced for any needed quick movement--facing the woman across the table.

"A cautious one, eh?" asked the woman. "Doesn't matter, no harm will come to you while I'm in charge of you." She sniffed the air and made a face. "I see you didn't bathe." The woman took a more thorough visual assessment. "Although you did wash your wounds, good to have priorities."

Shichi stayed silent and offered a blank expression in response.

"Would you like something to change into? A yukata perhaps?"

She guessed she was expected to have bathed and demanded clothes, a chance for her jailors to seem kindly and grant her request.

After a small staring contest, the woman continued speaking. "Not a talker? Too bad. The sooner you talk, the sooner you get to have your freedom. We'll start simple. Name? Rank? Designation?"

This she could answer and had been instructed by her handlers to answer. No information could be gained connecting her to Orochimaru's labs or the experiments which produced her. "Shichi."

"Is that name, rank, or designation?" queried the woman.

"Shichi." It was all and nothing.

The woman wrote down something in her file. "Alright, we'll call you Shichi for now. As a treat, I'll tell you my name is Anko and I'm in charge of your questioning while in Konoha's ANBU custody."

Shichi gave no response outwardly, but could time the silences between questions by the increasing pain in her arm and other wounds.

The questions were standard; where was her allegiance; who sent her; how did she take out so many ANBU in the village before capture. The woman would prattle off on tangents before re-asking all of the questions, always returning to the first: name, rank, designation. Finally after about 3 hours, the woman knocked on the door three times to be let out.

ANBU came to remove the table, chairs, and shoved Shichi roughly into her dark room. No one had cleaned where she had urinated or defecated from her last time in the cell. Taking her 4 paces from the door and sitting down, Shichi closed her eyes and slept lightly, waiting for the next round of questioning in the white cell and the possibility of death if her body could not overcome the withdrawal from the drug she has been physically dependent upon since age 4.

***

Ibiki gave no indication of minding Anko's brazen intrusion into his office. He ignored her flopping into one of his office chairs and putting her feet up on his desk. What finally caught his attention, was the file that was thrown in front of him.

"She's a tough nut to crack," Anko announced. "No outward emotional changes, and you wouldn't even know she has that fractured left forearm we left unhealed, she's not even favoring it!" She gave an exaggerated stretch that showed off her body and blew her bangs from in front of her eyes. "You would think she actually liked smelling like a latrine...refused to bath! She only cleaned her wounds. And the way she sat in that chair naked, she makes me look modest!"

"Shichi," he replied after looking over the file during her rant.

"It was the response she gave when I asked for name, rank, and designation. The only word she has uttered the entire time!" Anko sat up and gave him a more serious expression. "The one thing I definitely know, that woman has been through serious conditioning that includes resistance to psychological techniques when being questioned."

"Accent give away residence or possible allegiances?" probed the head of torture and interrogation.

"Nothing absolute. She sounded like you or I."

"The ANBU that intercepted her stated she moved faster that anything they had ever seen. No chakra signature at all, not just supressed, but it isn't there! She's civilian with some freaky strength, speed, and stamina. She killed 10 of our men and several more are still being tended to by Tsunade and Sakura as we speak. Injured she's not so bad, didn't even hit the guard when she tried a swing."

If he had read the pre-interrogation report without personally knowing the ANBU involved or going to the hospital to see the damage himself, he would have had trouble believing the facts.

"If we hadn't been on alert for a different attack, she would have taken her target by surprise. My guess is she's someone's assassin, the weapons, working alone..." Anko trailed off.

"Shichi. The number 7." Ibiki repeated.

"Yeah, but what does it mean."

He had a hunch, but he wanted Anko to question her another time to confirm it. Ibiki was reminded of Danzo's creations from Root. He absently wished the old man was still alive to confirm his suspicions, even though he greatly disagreed with Danzo's methods and reasoning. 'Shichi' might be the only information she was able to give because she had the rest of her identify stripped from her. Anko needed to have her own hunches and reach her own conclusions though, "Proceed as usual tomorrow. We'll assess the need to change techniques after you report."

Anko huffed, grabbed the file from his hands, and promptly vanished from his office in a teleportation jutsu.

Ibiki continued to think about the case after his subordinate left. There were too many things that did not add up. Her toxicology report showed a yet to be identified drug in her system at alarming levels, but she showed no ill effects. Her speed, strength, stamina were unheard of at civilian levels of chakra. Many Jonin would have difficulty killing and injuring as many ANBU as she had apparently handled with ease until her collapse. Strength that apparently she was having difficulty summoning up in her injured state. A tough nut to crack indeed. He gave a small quirk of his mouth that could have been mistaken as a smirk and cracked his knuckles. It had been a while since he had a challenge.

He would let Anko lead the interrogation for a while longer. She was his second, and the only one to be trusted with such an unusual case. Her judgment was not in question nor her abilities. Ibiki had simply sat behind a desk for too long and itched to see what would happen when 'Shichi' did crack. Because one way or another, 'Shichi' would talk, even if he had to borrow some of the techniques used on himself.

***

**Authoress post-ramble**: *bounces in anticipation* So? What do ya think? Characters need tweaking? My thoughts were that Anko would actually be serious about her job and more flippant about everything else, especially protocol. I plan on revealing more and more about Shichi as the story evolves. Comments, questions, and critiques in the form of reviews keep me going!


	3. Chapter 3

**Authoress Pre-ramble:** So getting this chapter out took longer than expected. I wasn't quite sure how to go about it at first and left it hanging for a few weeks. Then work actually picked up and was sadly bereft of writing time.

Thank you to those of you who have read and/or reviewed so far. I love my lurkers just as much as my reviewers!

And now...

**Title: Weapon Shichi**

**By: GrizzlyTeddyBear**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, and this makes me sad. It also means I make no money from this venture. Naruto belongs to Misashi Kishimoto. I do own Shichi, my OC! **

**Main Pairings: Eventual IbikixOC**

**Rating: M for mentioned violence & adult themes**

**Warning: AU, timeline? what's that? BDSM themes. Also is OC-centric. Hold your pants, all will be revealed as the story progresses. **

***Chapter 3***

For Shichi, the next day confirmed the drug was working out of her system at the anticipated pace. A small tremor could be felt along her left forearm where her fracture was beginning to make her use her ability to hide she was in pain. The continued lack of food and water were beginning to affect her by creating a small headache, so far easily ignored. Today she decided she would attempt to confuse her captors by being more docile during her room transfer for the interrogation.

For their part, the ANBU who did the transferring make no indication they had knowledge of her fracture or any instruction to treat her carefully. An abrupt cessation in their breathing was the only outward sign that their sense of smell was being offended from her refusal to bathe.

Again she was shoved into the white room with the instruction to wash. After sniffing the orange bucket to determine it was only water and giving it a cursory tasting, Shichi decided to take a few small sips of the water she had no idea when she would see again before only cleaning her cuts.

The woman named "Anko" again walked into the room after a period of hours. Instead of additional ANBU bringing chairs and a table, she walked in alone and stood.

Shichi sat down on the floor and stared ahead, refusing to acknowledge the power-play of the lack of seating. The silence passed with her controlling the muscle tremors in her left forearm.

Anko circled as she spoke. "My boss finds you interesting." She paused in her walking. "He's thinking of coming out from behind that desk he was promoted to and test how much his skills have rusted." The circling continued. "You wouldn't happen to have heard of Morino Ibiki..." The interrogator swiftly crouched and came nose to nose with Shichi. "Have you?" She sat back on her heels and looked to the side in speculation. "I haven't decided if he would be under- or overenthusiastic. I mean, you would be pretty if you actually bathed."

The invasion of personal space, idle threats, and bland insults were met with blank indifference. Shichi had heard of both Anko and Ibiki during her interrogation resistance training. If this woman, bearing resemblance to the images of the girl she was shown was indeed the same Anko who was refused Orochimaru's training and began working for Konoha's ANBU, she had instructions to eliminate her and Morino whenever the opportunity arose. She knew she would be presented with opportunities, unfortunately, she also knew she would be physically unable to follow through.

Suddenly, Anko blurred in movement.

Acting on instinct and ingrained training, Shichi managed to roll with the blow to her stomach. Her abilities may have been diminished from the drug working out of her system, but the human body's desire to remain uninjured was something that never went away. She concentrated on controlling her breathing while she was winded to refrain from gasping air back in. To let the enemy know she was affected, was to show they had superiority for the moment.

Anko grabbed Shichi roughly by the hair and applied steady pressure, forcing her to her feet. "Still not a talker?"

Blank stare. Controlled respiration and heart rate.

"Ibiki will do much worse. And you seem to be in worse shape than when you first came to our village. Are you physically able to handle that?"

Dead eyes slowly met Anko's searching gaze, still not uttering a word in acknowledgment, but allowing the stare to convey the message. Shichi had no allusions of getting out of physical techniques being used on her. Although injury was not to be intentionally sought out, she concentrated on her eyes sending the message that she didn't care what happened to her.

Giving the signal, but not letting go of her prisoner, Anko personally transferred Shichi back to her dark cell until the next interrogation.

***

Ibiki didn't expect Anko's report so soon. She usually took the full allotment of time allowed for turning everything thing. Pushing aside the other reports he was reading through, he regarded the frustrated stance of his second--arms crossed, scowling face, tapping her foot. He made the logical conclusion, "Shichi?"

"Physical intimidation doesn't phase her. Sucker punched her and she controlled her reactions too well." She blew her bangs out of her eyes and flopped into a chair. "Gave no outward indication of recognizing our names, but something..."

Ibiki watched Anko work through something about her time with the prisoner, drumming her fingers on his desk, and she leaned forward. "Differences from yesterday?" he probed.

"I decided to approach her alone, no chairs or table. She sat on the floor and avoided eye contact until after being punched. Then gave me the deadest eyes I've seen in a long time when I asked her if she thought she was physically capable of handling a session with you possibly not being in full control yourself. No verbalization at all this time. Still not bathing, just cleaning wounds. Seemed less willing to fight the transfer..." Anko trailed off.

This time he waited in silence.

"Nothing standard is going to work with her." She went from staring at nothing while she spoke to looking directly at him, something few could stomach. "It's like Danzo's Roots program." Anko leaned back and recrossed her arms, "No outward indication of recognizing our names, but something tells me we're on her target list too. I think whoever did her training gave her a long list of names of people to get rid of if she happened upon them."

"Corroborating evidence?" He watched as his second stood again and paced the room a few rounds.

"That's just it. Nothing to go on but a gut feeling. She works hard at giving nothing away."

"Changes?" Ibiki tried to refrain from sounding to eager, he hoped Anko would live up to the reputation she earned of being second to only him in getting needed Intel by any means necessary.

"Scheduling. Increase the unpredictability. Need to get her off balance and do the unexpected. Cell transfer, resume food and water." Anko barked out a laugh, "Maybe I should make her bathe and give her some clothes, she's too content to be dirty and naked."

"Proceed," he authorized. Ibiki approved of the change in tactics and thought it could benefit the process of breaking the prisoner if the privileges could then be restricted again. He reached for the report he had previously pushed aside when Anko showed no further need for discussion.

"Do we have an analysis of the drug they found in her system?" she asked as she half turned to walk out the door for once.

"Breaks down too readily. We haven't been able to get a stable enough sample to see what its effects were," he replied.

"So whatever it did, she would need frequent injections to keep up its effects," the female interrogator thought aloud. "So far no withdrawal has been evident, but if it does show up, we could use that as well." She turned back toward Ibiki. "I'll order the transfer and implement the changes tonight and report in the morning."

Ibiki shook his head after Anko once again disappeared by teleportation jutsu instead of using the door.

***

Shichi found her dosing disturbed when someone approached outside of her cell. From the footsteps, she surmised it was Anko...alone. This was a break from routine. ANBU must be getting frustrated. The cell door opened. The light from the hall turned the figure of Anko into silhouette.

"Come out," came the order. "You're getting upgraded."

Under her own power, Shichi exited the cell and followed Anko down the hall. She suspected the regularly placed supports gave convenient shadows to ANBU guards. Not knowing her way out of the building, she followed without protest, but counted doorways and turns.

The two women approached an opened room after turning down several halls and descending several stairs. The room was not grandiose, but it did have a bathtub filled with warm water, steam rising from its surface. There was a bed, a white yukata draped over it and a plush rug at its end. A large, overstuffed chair was also present. The walls were covered with curtains. It was a room designed to comfort and lull one into a sense of false security.

Shichi was reminded of her bedroom back at the lab.

"I'm not leaving this room until you take a bath and put something on," declared her escort.

It was not logical to engage in a physical altercation over a bath. Shichi got into the tub and began to scrub herself clean, being careful of her wounds. She continued to hold herself ready, taking in her surroundings, this was still a tactic to get her to cooperate and give up information. When she finished, she accepted the offered towel and dried off. Dressing herself in the yukata, the assassin was careful to hide the growing pain and muscle tremors in her forearm.

"Well, you do clean up nice," Anko nodded to herself in satisfaction. "Also, you won't make any more of us nauseous with your smell."

Ignoring the comments, the prisoner walked the perimeter of the room. She confirmed her suspicions that the curtains covered the standard concrete cell walls. The door appeared to be the same as her other cell, 3 hinges with 3 bolts opposite. Consciously putting a sway in her step, Shichi sauntered up to Anko from behind.

The interrogator stiffened at her approach.

Noting the reaction, the assassin changed her direction and walked over to the chair to stand behind it. She watched as Anko came to some internal decision.

The ANBU approached her cautiously, with a careful smile on her face. It was almost as if she were approaching an injured animal.

Shichi stood her ground. Backing up would be seen as territorial victory.

Anko stood opposite the prisoner behind the chair. Slowly, she reached out and brushed the back of her hand along a cheek.

The reaction was immediate. Shichi called up what reserves she could of her training and the rapidly dwindling drug effects, but held herself back from doing anything...permanent.

Anko cried out for backup after finding herself pinned to the wall with one of her own kunai to her throat, a trickle of blood running down, and Shichi not pressing the advantage.

ANBU arrived almost instantly.

Three violently removed Shichi from their superior and stood guard while the others backed out slowly with the slightly injured and very surprised Anko.

Shichi found herself struggling to contain her reaction to being touched by Anko until the last of the ANBU left the cell and locked her in for the rest of the night. After she was sure the footsteps had faded, she placed her hand on the cheek that had been touched.

It had been a foreign sensation. No one had touched her like that before. It was so intense that it still blurred the pain from the rough handling of her fractured forearm. Seizing the opportunity, she checked its alignment, but then she placed her left hand over her cheek again and closed her eyes to try and imprint that sensation in her mind.

It had been...acceptable.

Clenching her fist in reprimand, she swiftly removed her hand from her cheek. It could no longer be helped. The enemy saw how to get her to react, and she did not know if her withdrawal would be sped up by her actions either.

***

"You can have her," declared Anko. "Thought I was in her head, but she played me."

The head of T & I noted the look of ever increasing frustration on Anko's face while she held gauze to her neck. "Get that looked at."

"She got my kunai...the speed..." Pulling away the gauze to inspect the blood, his second wrinkled her nose in disgust. "She isn't exactly like Root. She did this to me for touching her when I thought she mighta swung towards women."

Ibiki gave a slight smirk.

Anko looked up sharply. "Oh shut it! I barely touched her." She huffed and stood to leave. "I'd like to see you try and charm her. It'd be like one iceberg trying to mate with another!"

After her departure he couldn't help it. He gave a small chuckle at Anko's discomfort. She seemed to be on to something though. It seemed Shichi was not comfortable with physical touch.

He would have to use that.

***

**Authoress Post-ramble:** For the record, I have nothing against Anko! Gotta give kudos to the girl that can keep up with the men! She was a handy plot device though. Had to create a transition somehow. Comments? Critiques? Questions? Leave me a review. Although I reserve the right to answer questions with "be patient, all will be revealed in future chapters" just to be evil!!!


End file.
